


The Twenty-first Century Dating Ritual

by misslucyjane



Series: Lovers In a Dangerous Time [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s01e07 Greeks Bearing Gifts, Episode: s01e08 They Keep Killing Suzie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Ianto explore the twenty-first century dating ritual. It involves reality tv, language lessons, alien pears , the five celebrities list and the merits of a Klingon dictionary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twenty-first Century Dating Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ygrane for beta.

The three of them were whispering to each other urgently when Ianto brought the afternoon coffee, and he heard the words “weekend,” “vacation,” and “labor laws” before Gwen hushed the other two and they all smiled at him innocently. Tosh said, unnaturally perky, “How’s Jack’s mood today?”

Ianto set a cup in front of Owen, another in front of Tosh, and the last in front of Gwen. “Normal,” he decided.

“Because,” said Gwen, “we want to ask him a favor and we’re trying to decide the best way to approach it.”

“Favor,” Owen groused as he drank his coffee. “It’s a fucking _right_.”

“We want a weekend,” said Gwen. “A _real_ weekend, with no one on call. Tosh has a family party in London and Rhys and I want to get away for a few days, and Owen—” 

He smiled tightly. “I have ways of passing the time.” 

“But,” Tosh said, “given how things always get busy when we take a free night, Jack would never agree. So we thought we’d try a logical approach: show him these studies we’ve found,” she pushed the papers towards Ianto, “that say overwork causes stress disorders for instance, and early onset of heart disease--”

“Have you thought of just asking him?” Ianto inquired, and watched with amusement as the glance bounced between them like a hot potato. 

“If you did the asking,” said Gwen. “That might work, if you asked.” 

Ianto smiled, picked up the print offs, and tucked them under his arm with the tea try. “I’ll ask,” he said, and climbed the stairs to Jack’s office. He rapped lightly on the door and opened it without waiting for Jack to acknowledge him. He had that right, he figured. 

“Why do you never do dramatic entrances?” Jack said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “I’d love to see you make a dramatic entrance.” 

“I could go back and do it again,” Ianto offered. 

“No, surprise me sometime. What’s up?”

Ianto placed the print offs on Jack’s desk. “These are to convince you the staff need a weekend.” 

“Oh—highlighted and everything. How thoughtful.” 

“I think it’s a good idea,” Ianto said mildly. “People do need time off to relax. It’s good for the spleen.” 

“You’re only saying that because you know I like hearing you say spleen.” 

“You also like hearing me say hand-crafted and jovial, and I will work them into conversation at the nearest opportunity. What shall I tell them?” 

Jack sighed, rubbed his hand over his face, and said, “Fine. Tell them to take their spleens and go do--whatever it is they do with a weekend.” 

“Tosh wants to visit family, Gwen and Rhys want a naughty weekend, and I’m not asking Owen for fear he’d tell me.” He paused. “And what would you do with some free time, sir?”

“I don’t believe in free time. If you all are out I’ll be here.”

“There’s nowhere you’d like to go?” Jack gave him an impatient look and Ianto said, “How foolish of me, of course not.” He took a breath. “Well. If there’s nothing else, you could come home with me.” Jack was still looking at him, a bit more questioning now, and Ianto said, “I doubt I’ll do anything glamorous, just the wash and the shopping, but it would be a few days away from here.” 

“An entire weekend, just the two of us.”

“Yes.”

“Friday night until Monday morning.”

“Generally the length of a weekend, yes.” 

“Are you sure we wouldn’t drive each other crazy?” 

“We’ve done all right with that so far, sir, for all that we live on top of each other here. Get your mind out of the gutter, sir,” he added when Jack smirked. 

“I don’t know if I can, Ianto, it’s been there for so long.” He paused, then said lightly, “Sure, it sounds like fun. I think I’d like to see how you are on a normal evening. Thank you,” he added with a slight nod.

Ianto bent and kissed him lightly, and patted his cheek. “You’re welcome. It’ll be like a slumber party: we can do each other’s hair and talk about boys. It’ll be fun.” He left the office to the sound of Jack’s laughter, and called to the others, “You have your weekend,” satisfied with Gwen’s whoop and Tosh’s “Thank you!”

* * *

Tosh left early Friday afternoon in order to catch her train to London, and Gwen left soon afterwards: she and Rhys were planning to drive to Aberystwyth and holiday there for the weekend.

“You know what that means,” said Owen. “A weekend shagging.”

“Sounds dreadful,” Ianto said, suppressing a smirk. “And what are you planning to do?”

Owen shrugged. “I’ll see where the day takes me. And what about you? Spit-polishing your shoes? Organizing your ties by color?” 

“And the laundry,” Ianto said and Owen snorted. 

“Glamor and excitement, Ianto. That’s you all over.”

Owen wandered out around six, leaving Ianto alone with Jack. Ianto finished straightening up and filing, glancing frequently at the clock. Finally at seven-thirty he went to Jack’s office—the door was open and Jack was at his desk, listening to a phone conversation and doodling on his blotter. Ianto raised his eyebrows and Jack held up a hand: five minutes. Ianto nodded, bit his lip, and then perched on Jack’s desk and lightly touched his cheek. Jack smiled at him and said into the phone, “Prime Minister, Torchwood can’t be held responsible for damages caused by—-”

He was clearly interrupted, and sighed, holding the phone away from his mouth. “Maybe ten minutes,” he said to Ianto in a low voice. Ianto was still holding his face, and he bent and kissed Jack now that the phone was out of the way. Jack made a soft sound in his throat and whispered, “I’m on the phone.” 

“I know,” Ianto said and kissed him again. Jack’s hand came up to cup his jaw and he broke off the kiss, though he didn’t move away.

“As I was saying, ma'am, Torchwood can’t be held responsible for damages caused by creatures we didn’t know about. Perhaps next time you’ll call for our help sooner rather than later.”

Ianto kissed down his neck, trying not to make too much noise even though Jack was nearly moaning into the phone. “Prime Minister, we’ll have to continue this conversation another time—-my grandmother is on fire. Bye.” He hung up the phone and looked at Ianto with exasperation. Ianto smiled back. “That was evil.” 

“You love it.” 

“Yes, I do, but it was still evil. That was an important phone call.”

“She was just abusing you. It’ll do them good to realize you’re not at everyone’s beck and call.” He tilted his head to the door. “Let’s go home.” Jack didn’t move right away--his expression was thoughtful and he left a casual hand on Ianto’s knee. “What?” Ianto said finally.

“You’re taking care of me.”

“Yes, that’s what I do.”

“In a more than professional capacity.”

“Yes,” Ianto repeated. “That’s what I do. Is there anything else you need to do before we go?”

“No, that was it.” He caressed Ianto’s knee, and then patted it and stood. “Take me home, Ianto.”

* * *

Jack had been to Ianto’s flat many times before, of course. They would have sex, sometimes eat something, and Jack would stay until Ianto fell asleep. He never spent the night and Ianto didn’t ask him to, supposing Jack’s natural restlessness and energy were what kept him away.

This was going to be vastly different. Jack had an overnight bag. Overnight bags meant night and morning and Ianto wondered for a moment as he unknotted his tie and rolled up his sleeves, if this actually was a good idea.

As Jack stepped behind him and placed a kiss on his neck, Ianto closed his eyes and thought, _Oh, no, it’s the best idea I’ve had all year._ He reached back to cup Jack’s head and tilted his own to the side. Jack chuckled but took the hint: he kissed and nibbled Ianto’s neck until Ianto couldn’t bear being away from his mouth a moment longer and turned in  
his arms. He kissed Jack as he pulled down his braces and began unbuttoning his shirt. 

“I had other plans for tonight than getting straight to bed,” he said as Jack began stripping him, too.

Jack pushed Ianto back against the nearest wall and ran his hands under Ianto’s open shirt. “Shall I remind you that you started it?” He stooped to kiss Ianto’s chest. “Coming on to me right in the office . . . shocking, Mr. Jones, shocking.”

“Sometimes,” Ianto gasped, “I need something to tide me over.”

“I’ve created a monster,” Jack said and went down on his knees. Ianto closed his eyes and tilted back his head, his hand in Jack’s hair. Jack’s mouth was magic, his hands sure, and he knew exactly how Ianto wanted—-needed—-to be touched.

Before he went mindless, though—”Wait, wait,” he said softly, pushing on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack looked up at him, licking his lips. “You said you wanted to see how I usually am at night. Let’s get in the shower.” 

Jack nodded and got to his feet, pulling off his clothes and Ianto’s as they went. Naked, Ianto turned on the shower and wrapped himself around Jack to stay warm. 

“This is what you usually do?” Jack said.

“It’s relaxing, isn’t it,” Ianto said with a shrug. “Have a shower, eat some supper, read a bit or watch the telly . . .”

“I disrupt your routine when I follow you home, then, don’t I.”

“I don’t mind it, you know,” Ianto said and pushed back the curtain. “In fact I rather like it.” He got into the shower and Jack followed him, embracing him from behind under the hot water. “And it’s not like you follow me home like a stray puppy. I generally invite you.”

“And when you don’t invite me—-”

“You don’t invite yourself. Which is too bad: I’d never send you home disappointed.”

“Even when you’re mad at me?” He kissed along Ianto’s shoulder.

“Well . . . things might get a bit rougher then.”

Jack turned him and kissed his mouth. “Angry sex can be very hot,” he whispered, hands moving down to Ianto’s hips.

“Make me angry enough and we’ll find out.” He reached for the soap and washcloth, lathered it up and began washing Jack’s neck, following soap suds with his fingers as they slid down Jack’s body.

“Oh?” Jack breathed. “And you think you won’t make me angry?”

“Learned my lesson, sir.” He rested his forehead on Jack’s shoulder and Jack stroked his hair. 

“All over,” Jack said gently. “Ancient history. Forgiven and forgotten.” He tilted up Ianto’s face. “Or at least forgiven?”

“Forgiven,” Ianto said and kissed him. Not forgotten. Not quite. 

Jack said nothing for a moment or two, touching his face, and then he laughed quietly and said, “I was right about here,” as he grasped Ianto’s cock. Ianto twitched and his hips thrust involuntarily, and he grabbed Jack’s arms for balance. 

“D’you want to finish, then?” he said, his voice going hoarse, his head falling back against the tile.

“Unless you’d rather interrupt me again.” He rubbed the head of Ianto’s dick with his thumb. “We could watch Wife Swap instead.”

“I loathe Wife Swap.” He thrust into Jack’s grip and his hand searched the tile for something to grab onto. Jack captured his hand, pressing his arm against the tile, and kissed his mouth, tongue flicking deep. Ianto teased his tongue with his own, hips rocking, fingers clenching. Jack raised their hands over Ianto’s head, kissing him hard, his hand working both their cocks between them. Ianto’s gripped Jack’s hand as hard as he could and he licked Jack’s lips when Jack pulled away to breathe. Jack bit Ianto’s neck and Ianto groaned, his body falling against Jack’s as he came. Jack’s teeth sank deeper into his neck as he shuddered and followed, his come hot on Ianto’s stomach. 

When he’d got his breath back, Jack held Ianto tight and kissed his face. “So do I,” he whispered and Ianto chuckled deep in his chest. “Horrible show.” He picked up the washcloth Ianto had dropped and began scrubbing off soap and semen. “What videos do you have?”

Ianto laughed. “Videos. Um. Westerns, period dramas, war movies, a little science fiction. More for style than subject matter.” 

“I don’t want to watch anything where someone dies.”

“Monty Python, then.”

Jack laughed and kissed him. “Of course you have Monty Python. Of course you do.” 

“I won’t sing along to the Lumberjack song.” He ran a lazy hand through Jack’s hair. “Time we get out, I think. What do you want for dinner?” 

“I’ll make something.”

Ianto looked up from turning off the taps. “You can cook?”

Jack looked offended. “I most certainly can. I can fry an egg with the best of them.”

“You spoil me,” Ianto said and pulled a towel off the rack to wrap around Jack.

* * *

Jack looked Ianto up and down. “Those are you PJs?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with them?” He plucked at the old soft t-shirt.

“Nothing. I just expected pinstripes.”

“I do own things that don’t have pinstripes, Jack.”

“You shouldn’t. You should always wear pinstripes. And wing tips.” He nodded firmly. “Yes.” 

Ianto shook his head and flopped onto the sofa beside Jack. “Mad, you are.”

“Isn’t this part of the twenty-first century dating ritual?” Jack said, shifting so he could lay his head in Ianto’s lap.

“Comfortable?” Ianto said and began rubbing Jack’s scalp with his fingertips.

“Very.”

“What twenty-first century dating ritual?”

“I pronounce my preferred items of clothing to ensure I always enjoy looking at you. Or at least drop hints about what I prefer seeing you wear.”

“You always enjoy looking at me no matter what I wear. My body drives you wild with desire.”

Jack harrumphed. “Yes, but that’s no reason to brag.”

“Who’s bragging?” Ianto said, smiling down at him. “Are dating rituals really that big of a mystery to you or are you just pulling my leg?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you just enjoy being an enigma, no matter how confusing it is. Though I suspect we’re both out of practice with dating rituals, all things considered. I _am_ certain sleepovers are a vital part, at least.”

Jack’s voice was starting to get sleepy. “Yes . . . vital.”

“Your favorite part.”

“Mm . . . I don’t mind this, though. Just the closeness . . . the touching.”

Ianto smiled, looking at the TV. “Good.”

“And the pajamas. I like the pajamas.”

“Good,” Ianto said again and slid his hand down Jack’s chest. Jack did not have pajamas, of course: he’d just taken off his shirt and was sprawled across Ianto’s lap in his undershirt and trousers, his long slender feet bare.

He caught Ianto’s hand and held onto it, weaving their fingers together. “I think this is part of the dating ritual as well. Snuggling on the couch, watching the evening news . . .”

“I suspect you’re correct, but I’d have to do a more comprehensive study. Unfortunately my pool of subjects is limited to–well, you, really.”

Jack peered up at him. “Are you saying we’re exclusive?”

“Well,” Ianto said slowly, “you are exclusive to me. I’m not making any assumptions about you.”

Jack looked back at the television. “Also part of the dating ritual. Declarations of exclusivity and fidelity. With footnotes,” he added and squeezed the hand he was still holding. “Conditions, exceptions, and the five celebrities list.”

“The what?”

“The five celebrities you’re allowed to sleep with if they show up on your doorstep.”

Ianto laughed. “I suppose yours includes the Priest-King of Thrall or some such.”

“The Priest-King of Thrall is celibate—he’s stoned to death if discovered in the act of sex. It has something to do with harvest festivals. Very ritualized society, the Thralls.”

Ianto shook his head. “Oh, very well. You’re allowed your five celebrities. Anything more than that we’ll have to discuss on a case-by-case basis.”

Jack’s thumb brushed the side of Ianto’s hand. “If I brought home a bit of rough, what would you do?”

“Go for a walk,” Ianto said quietly.

“No, really.”

“Yes, really. I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t even have a list of five celebrities.”

“Not even—-I don’t know-—who do the kids like nowadays?”

Ianto shrugged. “I just want you.”

Jack laughed and pulled him down to kiss him. “Okay,” he said, keeping his arms around Ianto’s neck. “Point taken.”

“Do you think you can do that? And not get bored?”

“I’m not going to get bored of you.” Ianto nodded and Jack studied him thoughtfully. “You don’t believe me entirely, do you.”

“I don’t _dis_ believe you.” Jack raised his eyebrows and Ianto lifted his chin, watching his face and waiting for more of a response, but Jack seemed content enough to just kiss him. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s chest and they both shifted on the couch, legs folded around each other. They tended to treat kissing as a formality to get though-—but sometimes it felt so good to kiss and kiss and kiss, hands in hair, on backs and chests, tongues meeting and parting and meeting again.

_Snogging like teenagers,_ Ianto thought with a laugh and pulled Jack even closer.

Jack was trembling when they parted, and he swallowed hard. “Sex now?” he whispered and Ianto nodded, untangled himself from Jack and held out his hand to him. Jack smiled and followed him docilely as Ianto turned off the television and all the lights, and led him to his bedroom.

* * *

He dreamed of Canary Wharf again—standing in line, listening to the screams, knowing that he was next and it would soon be his voice added to the cacophony. Sometimes in his dreams he saw Lisa’s body as she’d been on the floor of Torchwood, bloody and mangled; sometimes it was his beautiful girl instead, smiling and holding out her hand and saying, “It’s so beautiful, Ianto—-no pain, no troubles,” and somehow that was worse.

Mostly, though, he dreamed that the machines didn’t stop and his body was in the converter as the knives came swirling down at him.

He must have cried out in his sleep—he awoke abruptly when Jack started stroking his back and whispered in his ear, “Sh, sh. Just a dream. All over now. Sh, sh, Ianto.”

Ianto curled into him, seeking his heat, and Jack wrapped his arms around him and went on touching him soothingly. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, and with a sigh Ianto relaxed and obeyed him.

* * *

When Jack slept, he slept voraciously, completely submerged. Ianto watched him for a while, and then got up, started a load of laundry, made oatmeal and toast, and looked in on Jack again. He was still sleeping, sprawled out over Ianto’s bed, his body naked and splendid. Ianto sighed and decided not to wake him. It was only oatmeal: he could make more.

After he’d eaten and put another batch into the washer, he lay on the bed again and leaned his head on his arm. Jack finally stirred and blinked at him sleepily, and smiled. “Hey.”

“Good morning.” He kissed Jack briefly, and Jack held his head to keep him close.

“You taste like brown sugar.”

“I had oatmeal for breakfast. Shall I make some more up for you?”

“Yes, please.” But he kissed Ianto a few times more instead of letting him up. “What time is it?”

“Just past nine.”

“You let me sleep late.”

“You must have needed it.”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t need sleep,” he said, but there was something troubled in his face. Ianto kissed him and touched his cheek, and Jack smiled and said, “Never mind. I think I should go into the Hub for a little while this morning.”

“We have alerts set up,” Ianto said, settling comfortably against his side. “The weevils and the pterodactyl have enough food. You don’t even need to _think_ about Torchwood until tomorrow.”

“I never stop thinking about Torchwood.”

“That,” Ianto said, poking Jack’s ribs, “is part of the problem, Captain Harkness.”

“Problem,” Jack repeated.

“Yes. We need to recharge, even if you don’t.”

Jack grunted and ran his fingers down Ianto’s side. “I see your plan now. Distract me with sex and make me forget about work so I don’t pester the rest of you.”

“It’s working quite well so far,” Ianto said smugly, and yelped when Jack quickly moved on top of him and pinned him to the mattress.

“The sacrifices you make for the cause,” he said and started sucking on Ianto’s neck.

Ianto tried to pull up his arms but Jack was holding him down too firmly, so he wrapped his legs around Jack instead. “I know—-they have no idea how much they owe me.” His heart was already speeding up, his body responding to Jack’s weight and heat on top of him.

Jack nibbled his neck and licked a trail down to his chest. He stabbed and circled Ianto’s nipples with the point of his tongue until Ianto tore his hands from Jack’s grip and rolled him onto his back so he could kiss and taste him in return. 

Jack’s body amazed him, enthralled him. Sometimes he felt awkward, all elbows and knees, next to Jack’s solid, well-muscled self, but there was no mistaking that Jack found no fault with his body. Jack’s heart raced when Ianto kissed him and he was gratifying hard against Ianto’s hip, and when Ianto licked down the length of Jack’s cock his hips jerked and he moaned Ianto’s name, reaching up over his head to twist the pillow in his hands.

Ianto took him slowly into his mouth and sucked him hard and steadily, running his hands up and down Jack’s thighs, reaching up sometimes to play with his nipples and stroke his stomach. Jack’s skin always seemed warmer than other people’s and when they were making love Ianto sometimes thought he was hot enough to burn.

“Ianto,” Jack moaned, “Ianto, stop—-”

Ianto shook his head a little and worked Jack deeper into his throat. Jack didn’t protest: one hand tangled in Ianto’s hair and he moaned low and happily, letting Ianto touch him without directing him. Ianto pressed a finger against Jack’s lips and Jack sucked on it without question, and when it was slick enough Ianto slid it slowly into Jack’s ass. Jack pressed a hand over his eyes and muttered, “Fuck,” and Ianto smiled to himself as he fingered Jack, probing deep.

Jack was twitching against his lips, close to coming, and Ianto pulled back so the head of his cock was near the front of his mouth. He pushed a second finger into Jack, curling them, and felt Jack shift to support himself on his elbows. Jack growled, “Ianto,” and Ianto ran his tongue over the head of his cock and Jack let his head fall back and he groaned, his body shuddering as he came.

Ianto stilled his fingers and concentrated on swallowing without choking, and when Jack’s orgasm was done he got onto his knees and looked at Jack, wiping his mouth with the side of his hand. They both were breathing hard, and Jack’s expression was as baffled as it was sated.

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that taste,” Ianto remarked and Jack chuckled dryly. He held out his arm and Ianto lay down, unsurprised when Jack pushed up his t-shirt to touch his stomach and undid the fly on his jeans to slide his hand inside.

“What do you want me to do?” Jack whispered and Ianto inhaled sharply at his touch and the low rumble in his voice.

“I—-” He swallowed. Jack kissed him and rubbed his erect dick a little more firmly, and Ianto said, laying a hand on his waist, “I want to fuck you. Will you let me?”

He expected a protest or at least a laugh, but Jack merely nodded, his eyelids lowering, and took his hand from Ianto’s jeans. Ianto kissed Jack hard, parting just long enough to let Jack pull his t-shirt over his head. He started to push down his jeans as well but Jack put his hand on top of his and said, “Don’t—-I want to feel them.”

Ianto nodded and kissed him again, moving on top of Jack. It felt wonderfully decadent, to be half-dressed when Jack was naked and damp beneath him, to feel Jack’s heated skin through the denim; and Jack was sliding his legs against Ianto’s as they kissed—-the better, Ianto supposed, to enjoy the roughness of the fabric. Ianto started to lift Jack’s legs against his chest, but again Jack stopped him. “I’m not quite limber enough for that-—this will be easier,” he said and turned onto his stomach. Ianto kissed the back of Jack’s neck and worried a nibble of skin between his teeth.

“I’d like to see your face,” he whispered and Jack chuckled and pulled one of Ianto’s hands to his mouth to kiss his palm.

“Feel me,” he said, cupping Ianto’s hand around his face.

“I’ll need that for a bit,” he said and reached over to the bedside table to get the condom and lubricant from the nightstand. Jack nodded, and grunted a little when Ianto pushed his lubricated fingers into him. He pushed back his hips, arching under Ianto, and his hands clenched into fists. “Should I wait?” Ianto whispered and added a third finger.

“It’s just been a while,” Jack muttered, and he shivered when Ianto twisted his fingers before pulling them out.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered and Jack huffed a laugh. Ianto stroked his hands down Jack’s sides, kissed his spine, rubbed his prick between Jack’s cheeks and then carefully pressed into him. The heat of Jack’s body made Ianto’s mind go blank with pleasure and he had to stop a moment, rest his head on Jack’s shoulder, regain his breath and his senses. Jack grabbed his hand and twined their fingers together.

“Don’t be gentle.” He turned back his head to look at Ianto, blue eyes bright.

Ianto groaned and kissed his mouth—he couldn’t reach deep with his tongue at this angle, but the way that Jack played with his tongue said that was fine. Jack reached back to hold his head as they kissed, but it made movement awkward and Ianto had to reluctantly break off the kiss and just satisfy himself with Jack’s neck and shoulders under his mouth. He thrust hard and fast as he felt Jack’s body relax and accept him, grunting low in his chest, and Jack clutched his hand and whispered, “Yes, like this,” in a choked, gravelly voice.

Ianto ran his palm over Jack’s face, feeling the perspiration and Jack’s tense muscles, and Jack nipped at his fingers and sucked the tips into his mouth. “Ianto,” Jack said in that same voice and Ianto said, “Jack” and Jack reached behind him to grasp his hip and moaned, his head dropping, his body shaking. Ianto clung to his slippery skin and said, “Jack, Jack, _dw i’n dy garu di,_ Jack,” and came so strongly the world went white.

He pulled out of Jack and fell onto his back, panting. He felt Jack collapse next to him, still on his stomach, and he wanted to reach for Jack and gather him up, but his limbs refused to obey him. He tried to calm his breathing and his heartbeat, and finally managed to lift a heavy hand and let it fall onto Jack’s head. Jack turned to look at him, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Not bad for a first time,” he said and Ianto laughed.

* * * 

They rested for a while, and then Jack insisted he needed to go into the Hub—-”Just for a few hours,” he said, still dripping from his shower, and Ianto thought it was impossible to say no to Jack at any time but particularly when he was wearing only a towel and a smile.

“Go on, then,” Ianto said, “but unless the world is falling apart at the seams no one will come if you call them.”

“You’ll come,” Jack said confidently.

“Maybe.” He kissed Jack just enough to show he didn’t mean it. “Go on. The sooner you go the sooner you’ll come back.”

Jack took his face in both hands and kissed him, hard. “Come with me.”

“I’m doing the wash, and I need to do the shopping.” He patted Jack’s stomach. “I have to keep you in oatmeal, after all.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll meet you back here in a few hours, then. Should we go out tonight?”

“What do you want to do?” Ianto said.

“The cinema? I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie.”

“Yes,” Ianto said with a nod, “we definitely should.” He wanted to put his arms around Jack and kiss him, but they would just get distracted again, and if Jack was determined to go to the Hub Ianto preferred he do so quickly.

Once Jack was dressed and gone, Ianto sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and set about finishing his chores. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, like all the furniture in his flat had been shifted an inch to the left.

He was stripping the sheets off the bed when he realized what it was: Jack was gone, and had taken all the light and noise with him.

Ianto slumped down on the floor and held tight to the duvet. _What would it be like to live with Jack?_ he thought. _Would it be like this, adoring every moment with him, hating every moment apart?_

 _I might,_ he thought wryly, _be getting a little obsessive._ But would anybody blame him, with a lover like Jack? Someone so passionate and beautiful and bigger-than-life, who so easily had become his entire world?

He sighed, got to his feet, and took the bedding to the laundry nook. He’d wait for Jack, as he always did, and they’d go out and have a good time like they always did, and everything would be all right, as it always was.

He put away the thought of living with Jack. Wanting a future they would never had would only depress him.

* * *

Jack’s face was alive with mischief when he returned to Ianto’s flat. “Hold out your hand.”

Ianto did so, eying him skeptically. “What have you got now?”

Jack placed a piece of fruit in his palm. It was golden brown, round at the bottom and tapering at the top. “It’s a pear. There was a basket of them in the Hub. I ate one and put the rest in the fridge, and this one is for you.”

“Are you sure we should just be eating alien pears, Jack? Shouldn’t we test it first?” He held the pear to his nose and sniffed, and the aroma went to his head like the fizz of champagne. “ _Oh._ ”

“Exactly.” Jack was nearly bouncing on his feet. “I’ve had them before—-they’re amazing. Eat it, Ianto.”

Ianto raised his eyebrows but bit into the pear gingerly anyway. The flesh was dark pink, like the inside of a blood orange, and melted on his tongue into a tangy, sparkling juice. He chewed slowly and swallowed. “That’s very good.”

“Told you,” Jack said gleefully and took Ianto’s hand so he could bite into the pear in the same place where Ianto had eaten it. Ianto smiled and ran his hand over Jack’s hair.

“I do love it when you show me new things, you know,” he said quietly. Jack grinned, still chewing, and leaned over to kiss him. His mouth was even more intoxicating from the pear, and Ianto wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him closer.

“I’d show you the universe from one end to the other if I could,” Jack whispered and held the pear to his mouth. Ianto ate a bite and kissed Jack, sharing the piece with him.

“Is it an enhanced pear?” Ianto said against his lips.“Does it have-—properties?”

“I don't need an aphrodisiac to want you, Ianto,” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “Or doesn’t the fact that I can’t keep my hands off you tell you enough?”

“I suppose it does.” He ate another bite and kissed Jack, tasting the pear in his mouth. “You’re very affectionate without encouragement.”

Jack grasped the back of his head and kissed him, his tongue licking deep. Ianto wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing his body completely against Jack’s. “I love it when you come into the office just to kiss me,” Jack whispered. “I love it when you hold my hand in bed. I love it when you tease me back. I even love that blippy music you listen to. God, I want you.” He kissed Ianto again, harder.

“It’s not blippy,” Ianto murmured, “it’s electronic,” but it wasn’t important—-not when Jack was touching him like this, kissing him in the kitchen with a mouth that tasted like wine.

* * *

Ianto let Jack chose the film, not that it mattered since they spent most of it snogging. Jack had a slight exhibitionist streak, though he rarely pressed Ianto into accompanying him more than he was comfortable. This felt exciting enough for Ianto—like when Jack would corner him in the archives and part of the danger was knowing someone could turn on the CCTV or come down any moment.

But kissing in the dark wasn’t bad, and the theater was mostly empty so he wasn’t worried about people complaining to the management. He slid his hands over Jack’s chest, under his greatcoat, kissing and kissing him, happier than he could believe himself to be.

They decided to go for a drink afterwards. They didn’t hold hands as they walked but were close enough brush elbows, and Ianto couldn’t stop smiling at Jack. _He’s beautiful, charismatic and brave, and he loves me,_ he thought proudly, and decided what the hell and took hold of Jack’s fingers. Jack squeezed his hand and grinned at him—and Ianto noticed his eyes sliding away from him as he watched another man walk past.

Ianto felt the smile fall from his face and he let go of Jack’s hand. “What?” Jack said.

“Nothing.”

Jack looked behind him at the man who’d caught his attention, then at Ianto and took his hand again. “Hey. I was just looking.”

“I know.”

“Ianto,” Jack said and stopped walking, and kissed him firmly, right there on the street. Somebody whistled at them and Jack chuckled against Ianto’s mouth. “You’re hotter, you know. And I’m coming home with _you_.”

Ianto nodded and touched Jack’s face. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Ianto sighed, and nodded to the door up the street. “Let’s get into the pub. It’ll be easier to talk there.”

“Oh, God, do we need to _talk_?” Jack said but following him anyway. They both got drinks and sat at the end of the bar, and Ianto watched the foam settle on his Guinness, leaning his chin on his hand. Jack reached over and stroked his back.

“You have no reason to feel insecure,” he said gently.

“I have plenty of reasons. Look around this room, Jack,” Ianto said. “Count how many eyes are on you.”

“So let them look.” He gazed at Ianto steadily. “Count how many eyes are on _you_.”

Ianto looked around the pub. They both were getting looks; and one woman, her eyes locked on Ianto’s, ate an olive from a toothpick using a great deal of tongue. Ianto turned back at Jack, who was still watching him.

“They can tell, you know,” Jack said. “They can tell we’ve had more brilliant sex in the last twenty-four hours than most people do in half a year. They can also tell that we are going to go home and have more, and they only _wish_ they had something so wonderful to look forward to.”

“There is more to life than sex, Jack,” Ianto said gloomily.

“Yes, there’s also making out while watching a mediocre movie and feeding each other alien pears.” He sipped his drink, eyes still on Ianto. “There are a lot of beautiful people everywhere, Ianto. But you’re the only person I want.” He leaned over to rest his chin on Ianto’s shoulder, and when the barkeep glowered at them Jack gave him his most dazzling smile. “Even though I know you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“Except when you think I’m on the pull.”

“You were the one who mentioned bringing somebody home to join us.”

 

“And yet, I haven’t actually brought anybody home. Not even that hot guy on the street, even though he’d probably come. He was looking at you pretty intently.” He lay his arm over Ianto’s back and held his mouth close enough to Ianto’s ear that Ianto could feel his breath. It made Ianto shiver but he didn’t look at Jack. “I don’t mind other people looking at you. I love it when they do. I love knowing other people think you're as beautiful as I do. You know," he added, "if you ever got bored and wanted to shake things up, I’d watch you make love to somebody else. I’d love to watch you seduce someone.”

Ianto twitched under Jack’s arm and moved his head a fraction closer to Jack’s mouth. “Oh, really.”

“Yes. Choose someone. Anyone. Claim them, make them yours. I want to watch you.”

Ianto looked over his shoulder, around the pub again. That man at the nearest table had amazing eyes, large and brown and emotive; that woman waiting at the bar had a tiny waist and round, firm buttocks like two halves of a peach; that man a few stools away had long, elegant fingers wrapped around his pilsner glass. 

He turned back, his mouth as close to Jack’s as he could get without kissing him. “No.”

“Ah well,” Jack murmured, the words hardly more than a breath on Ianto’s lips. “But if the need ever arises . . .”

“I keep telling you,” Ianto said, not moving away, “I don’t want anyone but you. I’m not pulling, I don’t want to seduce anyone, I don’t feel the need to shake things up. I just want you, Jack.”

Jack smiled. “I think we should do it in the loo.”

“I think that will get us arrested.”

“I think you need to loosen up.”

“I think I should take you home. You can do anything you want to me there.”

“I think we should stay and do it in the loo.”

Ianto laughed and leaned his forehead against Jack’s. “God, I love you, Jack. Even though you are mad.”

“I love you too and I’m going to go even madder if I can’t have you in the next ten minutes.” His knee nudged Ianto’s.

Ianto suppressed a smile, turned away from Jack and sipped his drink as chastely as he could. “I’d like to enjoy this, if you don’t mind. You don’t rush Guinness.”

“Tease,” said Jack. He wrapped his arm around Ianto’s neck and whispered into his ear, “Would you rush your Guinness if you knew at the end I plan to push you into an alley and suck your cock?”

Ianto swallowed the beer too quickly and coughed, feeling heat rush not only to his face but all his extremities. “Er—”

“Sorry,” Jack said, not sorry at all. “You know I hate to upset your equilibrium.”

“Liar,” Ianto said and took another sip—the exact moment, of course, when Jack licked his ear. He shivered and nearly dropped his glass. “Stop it!”

“Why? It’s fun.”

“Are you bored, sir?” Ianto said.

“No, I just want to play a little. Since you won’t let me shag you in the loo.”

Ianto sighed and wished Jack would keep his voice down about his desires. He whispered, “If I let you shag me in the loo will you let me finish my drink in peace?”

“No,” Jack said.

“Then you’re not giving me much motivation to let you shag me in the loo.”

“Orgasms aren’t enough?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Pity.” He leaned close again, scooting his stool closer too. “Public sex is hot, is the thing.”

“It also leads to arrests for public indecency.”

 

“Only if we get caught. And we won’t get caught. I won’t let anything happen to you, Ianto.”

Ianto drank his Guinness. Jack obviously was not going to let this go, and Ianto supposed he’d never have a moment’s peace until he’d indulged him. He drank another gulp, sighed, and got to his feet. Jack arched an eyebrow at him. Ianto smiled and cocked his head towards the door of the loo. He walked—ambled, really, trying to be casual—to the small room and let himself in.

Two minutes passed and the door burst open to admit Jack, his greatcoat flapping behind him, and he grinned at Ianto like a wolf sighting Little Red and her picnic basket. “Hi,” he said and locked the door behind him.

“Hullo, Captain,” Ianto breathed and grabbed his lapels to yank him close enough to kiss. Jack made a muffled sound into Ianto’s mouth and pressed his hands against the wall behind Ianto’s head. They kissed each other fiercely, Ianto holding onto Jack’s lapels. Jack unbuttoned Ianto’s jeans and slid his hands inside, and Ianto groaned at the feeling of skin against skin.

He expected someone to start pounding on the door at any moment, telling them to get out, but he couldn’t hear a sound from the rest of the pub. That was good, he supposed: these old oak doors were thick.

Jack broke off the kiss and gave Ianto a wicked look, and got down onto his knees. Ianto tilted back his head, gasping, and wound his fingers into Jack’s hair as Jack began licking his hip bones. Jack braced his arms against the wall and gripped the back of Ianto’s jeans desperately as he gulped down Ianto’s prick. Ianto’s fingers scrabbled at the rough wood paneling: he felt a sting under his fingernail but didn’t care: Jack was sucking him and making “mmmm” sounds and Ianto wanted to shout that Jack could shag him in the middle of Piccadilly Circus if that’s what he wanted, just don’t ever leave.

He didn’t, of course. He breathed hard through his teeth and clutched at Jack’s hair and his eyes were wide open as he came. His head dropped and he watched Jack lick him clean, his eyes half closed. Jack’s face was flushed and his eyes were bright, and he pulled himself to his feet up Ianto’s body. He kissed Ianto hard—Ianto could taste himself in Jack’s mouth. He held Jack’s head to keep the kiss going and pushed his hand into Jack’s trousers to touch him, hard and hot. Jack’s hips jerked and he leaned blatantly into Ianto, gasping into Ianto’s mouth as his hand worked between them, slicked from Jack’s precome.

He turned Jack against the wall and fell to his knees, and pressed his face against Jack’s thigh. Jack stroked his hair and held his shoulder as Ianto worked his prick into his mouth. His fingers dug into Jack’s hips and he licked Jack’s cock, sucked him hard, moaned at the taste and heat of him.

Jack didn’t bother with keeping his voice down, but then he never did.

He sank down onto his knees between Ianto’s legs and touched his face. He looked gorgeous, his color high and his eyes glittering, completely dressed except for his open trousers, and Ianto sighed and folded himself in Jack's arms. Jack held him, scrubbing fingertips through his hair and lightly kissing his neck.

Ianto looked at his hand, where his finger was still stinging: there was a small sliver under the skin. He tried to bite it out and scowled when nothing happened. "What's wrong?" Jack murmured, amusement in his voice.

"I've got a splinter." He showed Jack, who took hold of his hand and inspected it. "It's that old wood."

Jack smirked and said, "Let me," and bit down on the tip of Ianto's finger. Ianto hissed and looked away, and when he looked back Jack was picking the splinter from the tip of his tongue. "There. No harm done."

"Thank you." He sighed and leaned his head against Jack's shoulder again. “We should go. Or rather you should go and then I should go, or however people do it to not attract attention.”

“We can leave together. Arm in arm, hands in each other’s back pockets, shit-eating grins on our faces . . .”

“I have never worn a shit-eating grin in my life,” Ianto said and buttoned up his jeans.

“I feel we need to change that.” Jack helped Ianto tuck in his shirt and kissed his mouth. “Smile big for me, Ianto,” he said and Ianto couldn’t help but smile even if it was a touch uncomfortable.

“Daft, you,” he muttered as he stood, and he held out a hand to Jack. Jack made a scornful noise and got to his feet without assistance. He redressed himself and adjusted his coat.

“Do I look decent?”

“You look like you just came,” Ianto said frankly. 

Jack laughed, then kissed him and said, “Want to see something cool?” as he unlocked and opened the door, and Ianto saw why they hadn’t been interrupted. A small circle of metal was stuck to the door, which released a light blue shield of barely-noticeable light. It blocked all sound between the door and the rest of the pub, and Ianto supposed it blocked vision as well.

“Sir,” he said patiently, “we’re not supposed to take alien technology for our own personal use.”

Jack removed the circle deftly and tucked it in his coat, and the noise of the pub went back to its usual volume. He put his arm around Ianto’s shoulders and directed him out the door. 

“It’s for the public good, Ianto.”

“It’s selfish. And rather childish, Jack.”

“Did you or did you not just have a fantastic orgasm?”

“I did,” Ianto admitted.

“Then let’s not worry so much about selfishness. Let’s justcall it . . . self-preservation.” 

Ianto shook his head, then put his arm around Jack’s waist, not caring they were on the street and people might stare. It felt too good to be close to him. “It’s time we go home, sir.” 

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Jack said in a pleased tone.

* * *

In the dream, Ianto was in the converter, the cleavers whirring and screaming above him. He was trying to scream but the only sounds that came from his mouth were tiny whimpers--he couldn’t be any louder through the filthy rag tied over his mouth.

“Ianto.”

Jack’s voice, cutting through the fog of fear and dread, silencing all the terrible noise.

“Ianto,” he said again and Ianto felt Jack’s hand on his forehead and his lips on his mouth. “Sh, you’re dreaming, Ianto.”

Ianto pressed his face against Jack’s neck. “Sorry.”

“For having bad dreams?” He kissed Ianto gently. “You’re allowed to feel things, you know.”

Ianto nodded and curled against Jack. Jack chuckled and wrapped his arms around him. “The things I’m learning about you . . . do you have these every night?”

“Only on nights when I sleep,” Ianto muttered, and Jack sighed.

“You sounded like you were in pain.”

“It’s all getting mixed up together,” Ianto said. “The Cybermen and the—the cannibals and Lisa. I think I’ve died a hundred times in my dreams.”

Jack made a soothing sound. “You don’t have nightmares when you stay with me at the Hub.”

“I know. I don’t know why.”

“You don’t feel safe here but there, you do,” Jack suggested in a soft voice.

“Perhaps.” Ianto sighed and lay his head on Jack’s chest.

“What do I need to do fix that?”

Ianto sighed and started tracing his fingertips over Jack’s stomach. “Maybe nothing. There are things you can’t make better.”

“I can try.” He tipped up Ianto’s face and kissed him, kissed him sweet and gentle and fierce.

Ianto thrust his fingers into Jack’s hair and gently pulled him back. “I’m exhausted, Jack,” he said, and Jack chuckled and nodded.

“Sorry. Of course you are. I’ve been pushing you a bit.”

“I love it, you know—I just need to rest.” He settled against Jack’s side. Jack kissed his forehead and kept one arm around him. Ianto said, after a few minutes of listening to Jack breathe, “Maybe I ought to move.”

“Maybe. Get a fresh start.”

The words came out in a rush. “Maybe we could find a place together.”

Jack breathed evenly. “Well. That’s something I hadn’t considered.”

“No, I didn’t think so.” He waited for Jack to say more, and when he didn’t, he said, “Well, it was just a thought.”

“No, no, it’s a good thought. It’s not something I expected you to suggest.”

“Why?”

“Because working together and living together isn’t easy. People need breathers from each other sometimes.”

“I’ve done it before,” Ianto said quietly, and Jack stroked his hair.

“I know,” he said, “but we’re a different situation.”

“Not that different,” Ianto muttered. “I’d like knowing I could expect you home at night.”

“Right,” Jack said with a slight sigh.

Ianto stared at the ceiling.

“Or you could just move into the Hub,” said Jack. “You’d save a lot on rent.”

“I do need to get out of there sometimes. It doesn’t really say ‘home’ to me.”

“That’s what hotels are for.”

Ianto huffed. “And what would convince you to spend a few nights a month away at a hotel?”

“Have you noticed yet how rarely I say no to you?”

Ianto played with the coverlet between his fingers. “No, I suppose I haven’t.”

“So it’s conceivable that all you’d have to do to convince me of anything is just ask.”

“Well.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll keep that possibility in mind.”

“That’s it? You’ll keep it in mind?”

“Well, we’re still in a very early stage of the dating ritual. I really don’t want to assume anything.”

Jack played with his ear. “Perhaps that’s wise. Things change so quickly in our lives.”

“You could fall out of love with me tomorrow,” Ianto said, trying for light and failing completely.

Jack’s finger stopped moving. “Is that what you think?”

“Well. Jack. I. Like I said, I don’t want to assume anything.”

“But you are assuming I fall out of love easily.”

“You do fall _in_ love easily.”

“Is that what you think?” Jack said again, in a voice that Ianto would have described as hurt if it had come from any other person.

“Don’t you?” Ianto said quietly. “Didn’t you look at me one day and think, ‘Oo, I’ll have that’?”

Jack chuckled dryly and sat up, pulling up one knee. “I see. No, Ianto, that’s not quite what I thought.”

“What did you think?” Ianto said, and Jack turned to him just long enough to smile—a bit sadly, Ianto thought. 

“There’s a difference between thinking ‘Oo, I’ll have that’ and realizing ‘This person makes me happy no matter what.’” He sighed. “I hope at some point you’ll accept that I’m not just in this for the sex.”

Ianto didn’t know what to say. He sat up and draped himself over Jack’s back, and kissed the back of his neck. He rested his cheek on Jack’s shoulder. He said quietly, “When I was at university I dated this girl called Gillian. She was . . . beautiful. Red-haired. She used to dye bits of it blue and yellow and purple. I loved it. She had big brown eyes, and she used to wear three or four t-shirts at a time every day, no matter the weather.

“She was my first girlfriend—my first everything. We were together about a month when I started hearing rumors that she wasn’t being entirely honest with me.” He took a deep breath. “When I confronted her about it she said, ‘Oh, Ianto, it’s just sex. I _love_ you.’” Jack reached back to take his hand, weaving together their fingers, and Ianto said, “But it’s not just sex, Jack. It’s not for me.”

“I know, Ianto. I know it’s not.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to break my heart the same way.”

Jack’s fingers tightened on his. “You know, if you go into a relationship envisioning how it’s going to end, the end is inevitable.” He turned to Ianto and kissed him, hard enough to push him back against the pillows. “Have a little faith, Ianto. Just a little.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I’m trying.” He wrapped his arms tight around Jack, tangled together their legs, kissed him back.

* * *

Jack rose early Sunday morning to go into the Hub for a few hours. As soon as he was dressed he bent over Ianto and whispered, "Go back to sleep," his hand warm on Ianto's back. Ianto didn't even open his eyes long enough to argue.

It was raining when he woke again. He opened the shade nearest the bed and watched the rain hit the window for a while before finally pushing himself out of bed to shower and dress. He felt sleepy and sore, his muscles well-used, as if he'd spent the previous day hiking. He supposed in a way he'd done the equivalent: how many calories did a person burn during an hour of sexual activity? Two hundred? Three?

No wonder he was ravenous, too. He scrambled a mess of eggs and cheese, toasted some bread and loaded it with strawberry jam, and poured himself a big cup of coffee. He'd done all his errands the day before and the flat was spotless, and unless he wanted to wash the sheets again, there was nothing he needed to do.

He wondered if he should call Jack.

He picked up a book, curled up in an armchair and started reading, his coffee within reach. After two pages he closed the book, sipped his coffee, and stared at the phone.

 _Obsessed,_ he thought. _But I'm not going to call. I'm not going to tell him I want his tongue in my mouth and his hand on my dick. I'm not going to call him and beg him to come home because I miss him._

The phone rang and he leaped for it. "Ianto Jones," he said in his calmest voice.

Jack said, "What's the last novel you read?"

"The last novel? I think it was the latest Neil Gaiman. Why?"

"Because I," said Jack, "am standing in front of a W H Smith and I am thinking about buying you a book."

"Oh," Ianto said. "Really."

"Really. And you do have that big bookcase, so I know you read, but I didn't notice what sort of books you have it and of course I don't know what you've read and what you only have because they were gifts or because you intended to read them and never got around to it."

"I've read every book I own," Ianto said with no little pride. "Get me something unusual. A history of textiles, perhaps. Or a Klingon dictionary."

"Klingon." Jack snorted.

"You wanted suggestions."

"If I got you a collection of poetry, would that be too mundane?"

"It sounds like a vital part of the dating ritual."

Jack made a thoughtful sound. "Is that good or bad?"

"Get me anything but Sonnets from the Portuguese." He picked up a copy from the bookcase but didn't open it, knowing the inside still read, _I love thee to the length and breadth of me--Lisa._ "On second thought, don't get me poetry, sir. I think the Klingon dictionary will be the best bet."

"I'd rather listen to you speak Welsh than Klingon."

Ianto put the book back on the shelf. "Would you, now?" he murmured.

"Mm-hmm."

Ianto said in his most seductive tone, " _Mae'r defaid wedi bwyta fy brechdanau_ ," and smiled to himself when Jack nearly moaned into the phone.

"Oh, that's pretty. What does that mean? No, don't tell me--it means, 'Come home and shag me all night.'"

"No," Ianto said, curling up in the armchair again. "But I would like it very much if you would come home. Though I don't know about the shagging all night--maybe half the night. I have to sleep at some point."

"I can handle half the night. It means . . . 'the monkey sits on the branch'?"

"No," Ianto said with a laugh.

"'My hovercraft is full of eels'?"

"No, Jack. Come home. I'll tell you when you get here. _Os gwelwch yn dda_ ," he added and Jack nearly moaned again. " _Dw i’n dy garu di._ "

"Oh, God, I could listen to you say that all night."

"Come home and I will. I will speak Welsh to you until your head explodes."

"I will. As soon as I buy you a book. Not a Klingon dictionary, though."

"I'll contain my disappointment, sir," Ianto said and rang off.

* * *

Jack knocked on the door when he reached Ianto's flat, and once he was inside and had taken off his rain-specked coat he held out a copy of _Jeeves and Wooster_. "It seemed appropriate," he said with a slightly embarrassed expression, and Ianto laughed and kissed him in thanks.

"Much better than a Klingon dictionary. Thank you."

"In Welsh?" Jack said hopefully.

" _Diolch_ ," Ianto said, " _diolch yn fawr iawn_ ," and Jack kissed him, hard.

"Beautiful Welsh vowels," he murmured.

"I believe you're developing a fetish," Ianto said serenely, arms around Jack's neck.

"I believe I already had a fetish. As per the dating ritual, I am completely enthralled with every aspect of you, including your voice, your manner of pronouncing even the most common words, the way your mouth moves when you speak and all the interesting things your voice does during the course of the day." He shook his head.

"Well, thank God for the dating ritual," said Ianto, "or I wouldn't know what to do with you."

"Yes, you would." Jack cupped Ianto's face in his hand and ran a thumb over his cheekbone. "It's in your nature." He took a breath, then seemed to make a decision and said, "Ianto, I don't want to break your heart. I don't plan to. I'm trying to love you the way that you want me to and I think I've done a pretty good job so far."

Ianto looked away a moment, then nodded and lay his head on Jack's shoulder.

"So," Jack said quietly. "What is it going to take for you to stop doubting me? That's what I'd really like to know."

Ianto swallowed. "I've never been much good at faith."

"Oh, I don't think that's true. I think you've got a lot of faith--it's just been battered a bit lately." He kissed Ianto's hair again. "You want to shield the people you love with that big heart of yours . . . of course it's taken a few hits."

Ianto raised his head and kissed Jack simply. "I believe I promised to speak Welsh to you for a while."

He studied Ianto a moment, and then smiled his careless smile and said, "Yes, you did."

"Come along, then," Ianto said, tugging on his hands, and pulled him back to bed--where he undressed Jack and kissed him all over, whispering as he did so "You're mine" in every language he knew.

* * *

Jack left early Monday morning, before sunrise, and Ianto supposed that was wise. Sleep eluded Jack no matter how physical he'd been, and Ianto needed some time to center himself before everything returned to normal. He buttoned himself into his suit, pulled up his shirt collar as high as he could to hide the love bites, made certain that from all angles he was just Ianto the secretary again. The others didn't need to know about Jack and him any more than he wanted to know with whom they were dallying.

He had the coffee percolating and tea steeping when the others came in, Gwen looking happy and Tosh relaxed and Owen--like Owen. "And how was your weekend?" Tosh said, more out of politeness, Ianto thought, than genuine interest, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Educational," he said, and went to his work station to begin taking down messages. There was an urgent one from a DCI Swanson, requesting the presence of Torchwood as soon as possible, and something about her tone made Ianto uneasy. He took the message to Jack.

"This could get interesting," Jack said once he'd read it. "We don't get requested like this often."

"Shall I come as well, sir?"

"No--find out everything you can about this DCI Swanson for us. I 'd like to know who we're dealing with." He rose from his desk, and Ianto helped him into his coat, running a hand down  
his back once he was wrapped up in it. Jack paused and held Ianto's face in his hand, and kissed him lightly.

"I had a good time with you," he said, his eyes more serious than Ianto was accustomed to seeing them.

"So did I."

"We'll do it again," Jack said. "Soon. Maybe this time we won't even wait for an excuse."

Ianto smiled and tilted his head towards the door. "Go save the world, Jack."

Jack touched his cheek and left the office, calling to the others, "All right, kids, we have a field trip today," as he descended the stairs. Ianto stood in the office, listening to them follow Jack out into the daylight, and wondered why he felt like everything had shifted again--like the world had shivered on its axis, like he was a few seconds ahead of or behind everyone else.

 _Something moving out there,_ he thought, and laughed quietly at himself. _Nonsense._ He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at his work station. He had research to do, not odd nameless dread to ponder. He would tell Jack about it later and they'd have a good laugh.

End

**Author's Note:**

> Mini-vocabulary:  
>  _Diolch_ thank you  
>  _Diolch yn fawr iawn_ thank you very much  
>  _Os gwelwch yn dda_ please  
>  _Dw i’n dy garu di_ I love you  
>  _Mae'r defaid wedi bwyta fy brechdanau_ The sheep have eaten my sandwiches


End file.
